


Lucy

by NebraskaWildfire



Series: Renewal [1]
Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:28:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28143129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NebraskaWildfire/pseuds/NebraskaWildfire
Summary: Did you ever wonder what happened to Lucy Fielding from “Six Strangers at Apache Springs”?  I did.
Series: Renewal [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2061708
Comments: 33
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

“Mother, do you really think you should be out of full mourning so soon?”

I sighed, as we walked out of Mrs. Sorenson’s boutique. My dear, lovely daughter, Victoria, had already made her opinion clear while we were in the shop and I was being measured for a new wardrobe of half mourning in some lovely purples and mauves. 

“Darling, it has been two years.” I had only convinced her to accompany me to the fitting, by commenting that my wardrobe of black dresses was now horribly out of date after the length of time her father had been gone. Since I finally was going out more into society due to the recent resumption of her search for a husband, she agreed.

“Some wives wear it longer,” she replied, her face unbecoming with it looking so pinched. She herself had only come out of mourning these past six months. I tried to convince her that she should order something other than lilac or gray, but she did not.

“Your father, God bless his soul, would not have wanted us to waste the rest of our lives.” I knew this to be true. I had married a man who was better than I deserved.

“But we have not been wasting our lives, Mother,” Victoria answered. “We’ve been to two concerts and a book reading in just the past month.”

I sighed again. I had enjoyed the full social circle in which we thrived in the years since we returned to New York City. My husband’s death stopped all that. I admit that for several months, I had no desire to see most of our acquaintances, or even most of our friends, after surviving the gauntlet of the funeral and all it entailed. However, after two years, I was more than ready to be out in public again.

“Sweetheart, has it not yet occurred to you, that perhaps having your mother accompanying you in widow’s weeds might put a damper on your courting activities?”

“Oh, Mother, I know you are trying to be considerate, but having you in mourning clothes should not affect that at all.” Victoria sniffed. “Many mothers are widows by your age.”

I did not reply to her with my first reaction. Taking a deep breath, I just asked, “And you?”

She paused. “You might be right, Mother, that I should soon order something other than half mourning. Lilac is not my best color, which is why I have gone more often for gray.” She thought for a moment. “However, men might think I have more of a dowry to offer, from my father’s estate, even if I am not a very rich heiress.”

I had to admit, as much as I loved my daughter, I would be glad once she was married and settled and I could come out of mourning without affecting anyone besides myself.

There was no need to present myself as other than a grieving widow. I did still desperately miss my dear husband and had no desire to hunt out another one. I knew I would never find his equal. It was just so tiring to wear nothing except black.

I let her comments go, as we stopped at our favorite tea shop, since it was on our way home. I listened, sipped my tea, and nodded, as she went on about eligible men she met recently, at the home of friends and at the few events we attended. Knowing her mercenary nature, I was certain she would pick the best match for herself without my interference.

It was a beautiful afternoon, so we took our time getting home, taking a walk through the park. By the time we arrived back, we had to hurry upstairs to change for dinner.

“Mr. Nicholas arrived home before you and Miss Victoria did,” my maid, Mary, informed me, as she helped me into my evening gown. 

“Yes, I imagine he did.” Nicholas had just become engaged when his father died. His dear Lily agreed to postpone the wedding until we were past the period of deep mourning. They were planning their wedding to take place soon, which is another reason I wanted some dresses that were not black and not two years out of style.

Nicholas was already in the parlor when I came down, to have our before dinner drinks. We usually just had a cordial, but tonight I saw that he had a glass of whiskey.

“Nicholas, I am so sorry we were not home to greet you earlier. It was such a lovely day for a walk.”

“Really, Mother,” he gave me a disappointed look over the rim of the book he was perusing. “I know we spent a lot of time in the West, but we’ve been back in New York City for some time now, and even more, you are still in mourning. Wouldn’t a carriage have been a better idea?”

I just looked at him before I replied, remembering him running wild on the plains of Wyoming when he was young. “The two-year anniversary of your father’s death was last month.”

“I’m well aware of that, Mother, but Lily’s family will expect certain standards from us.” He paused. “And even more after people read what is in this book.”

“What book?” I tried to look at the cover but he had it face down on his knee.

“I recently found the papers where they contacted Father before his death, about including him.” He huffed. “If I had known, I probably would have advised him against agreeing, but it looks like he did just weeks before he passed away.”

“Whatever is the book?” I asked again, now very curious. Sometimes I think my children purposely forget how much we traveled the West when they were young, before we came back East.

“Here,” he finally handed it to me, watching my expression.

“The Long Road to Forgiveness: Our Quest for Amnesty.” I looked up at Nicholas, confused. “By Hannibal Heyes and Jedediah Kid Curry.”

He continued to study me. “There is a section in the book that talks about the time they were involved in the dispute between the Chiricahua Indians and the United States government.”

“Oh.” Memories flooded back. “Your father did extensive work with the Chiricahua, among the other native tribes with which he worked.”

“Yes, of course,” Nick nodded. “I remember the story he used to tell about the first time he met the Chiricahua.”

“At Apache Springs,” I added. “But what does that have to do with Curry and Heyes?”

He handed me the book and I started to leaf through it.

“They say they met a man who was negotiating with the Chiricahua, named Edward Fielding, for whom they had the greatest respect.”

My memories of the time in that dusty town were still clear. “We met up with several, well, interesting people during our time out there, but I think I’d remember if we met up with Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry.” I gave my son a look.

“Perhaps Father met them without you,” Nicholas mused. “They do not mention you in the book.”

“Perhaps, but I do not remember us being separated then.” I looked at the title page and then up at my son, as I turned the next. “I remember a rather colorful woman named Caroline and a sweet girl named Grace.” I cleared my throat and started to look down as I felt a blush come to my face and did not want my son to see. “There were two men named Smith and Jones, but they were just drifters.”

“Smith and Jones?” he asked. “I wouldn’t think you’d remember such common names.” 

“They had some uncommon first names, though,” I continued as I turned to a picture of the authors.

And there, captioned with the names of Hannibal Heyes and Jedediah Curry were the Joshua and Thaddeus I remembered.


	2. Chapter 2

Nicholas wanted to sit up front in the meeting room at the hotel.

“Perhaps it would be better, dear, if we sit in the back, especially with me still in mourning.” I was not certain they would recognize me after all these years, but I knew them the minute I saw their picture in the book, no matter that their hair had grayed and their faces had a few more lines.

“Oh, certainly, Mother, yes, of course, we can sit towards the back, if that will make you feel more comfortable.”

The minute Joshua got up to speak, my memories flooded back. His engaging smile and soft dimples were much in evidence as he charmed the audience. I remember him smiling wryly at Caroline Rangely and sweetly at Sister Grace. I myself was blessed by a few polite smiles and one or two rueful glances. I remember so clearly being reprimanded like the immature girl I then was.

I smiled to myself as Hannibal Heyes spun his tales. He did truly have a silver tongue. I wondered back to how I was then that even an outlaw would think himself better than me and sadly be right.

He pulled Jed Curry up too and he talked about their seemingly never-ending quest. He told of days when the only thing that kept each of them going was the desire for their partner to get amnesty. I have to admit that while it was interesting, my mind kept wandering back to our time in Apache Springs.

I had told Joshua that my husband was enamored with him and Thaddeus, as ideal specimens of the western male. Even then I knew it was not Edward who idealized them. It burned my pride when Joshua seemed well aware of it and was not interested.

Before I knew it, the audience was clapping. I missed the remainder of the talk, dreaming of past days. Long ago, I promised myself I would not wish away my life. It was a conviction that served me well. When Edward was still alive it was easy to keep. Now it seemed I was slipping into long gone habits.

If I was the same silly woman who had met such interesting people in a dry, dusty town, I might have blamed it on seeing the boys again. As an old woman, I knew better.

“Mother,” Nicholas brought my attention back to the present. “Do you want to stand in the line to get the book signed? You could ask if they remember you.”

“No, Nick,” I shook my head. “It would probably be best not to, so I won’t embarrass myself.” I took a deep, cleansing breath. “I think I’ll just go to the ladies’ retiring room, to freshen up a bit, and join you afterwards.”

Nicholas’ attention was on the line already forming. “Yes, Mother that is probably for the best.” His voice trailed after him as he headed off, not waiting to see if I even turned into the hallway. I took one last look at them. They were no longer the young, strong men I had known, but there was still something about them that attracted attention. They had a sense of presence that I think they were trying to subdue when we all met in Apache Springs. I sighed and turned away.

The retiring room was quiet and peaceful. I sat in a secluded corner, leaned my head against the back of the padded chair, and closed my eyes. I had always been faithful to my husband, even in my disenchanted years. Yet I still remember the thrill I felt meeting Joshua’s eyes, even filled with scorn as they were at times. I was not certain if I was up to meeting him again, as I was not certain what I would now see in his eyes.

A woman close to my age came bounding into the retiring room, fanning herself with a fancy lace embroidered handkerchief. Her hair still retained some of its original blonde luster, even though a few streaks of gray were visible. She was short and round in all the right places.

“Oh, mercy me!” she exclaimed as she gracefully dropped into the chair next to me. “This book tour will be the death of me yet!”

I wondered if she was going through the change of life, as I had earlier, when I saw her slightly rounded shape that the pregnancy corset was allowing to show.

She blushed, as she followed my gaze.

“I am so sorry, my dear,” I said. “I apologize for intruding.”

She laughed in a delightful tone. “No, it should be me apologizing.” A small smile graced her face, as she leaned her head back against the chair. “You were all comfortable and settled in this nice retreat, and here I come flittering in, to disturb you.” She was still flushed, even though she continued to fan herself.

“Can I get you something? Perhaps a cool glass of water?” I offered, remembering my pregnancies. I did not suffer as some did, but I do remember being uncomfortable at times.

“That would be lovely,” she sighed. “But I can’t impose.”

“It is not an imposition,” I smiled back. She seemed a genuinely pleasant woman and the errand should keep me from having to return to the lecture hall so soon.

“Oh, you are an angel,” she sighed and opened her eyes. She noticed my deep, black mourning attire. “But perhaps, you need you need attention more than I do?”

“How kind you are, even indisposed.” I smiled my tired smile. I needed to get out of these clothes before all anyone saw in me was an ever-grieving widow. “I was just indulging myself, coming for a quiet moment after the talk.”

She reached out. “Has it been long?” She looked genuinely concerned.

“Long enough, but not to stop missing him. I imagine that will never happen.” Why did I let that bit of honesty peak out. “Now I must apologize for burdening you.”

“Oh, please do not. I cannot imagine being without my Jedediah, even though I expect it will happen, with him being older than me.” She rested her head again. Her color was less flushed.

Suddenly it hit me. This must be Thaddeus’ wife. I heard that Kid Curry married the daughter of a senator. I am surprised we never met before, given our social circles. I wanted to say the distance between New York City and Washington would account for that, but even now there were some in society who still shunned Elizabeth Warren Curry. I often wondered if it was jealousy more than not wanting to mix with a different class. She was a powerful woman in her own right and simply ignored those who ignored her.

After my silence, she opened her eyes. A harsh look was in her blue eyes, that had not been there before.

“If it is too much bother,” her color rose again and she started to get out of the chair.

“No, please,” I gently, and then firmly, when she did not want to yield, pushed her back in the chair. A genuine smile crossed my face as I looked at her. She reminded me so of Vicki, when her mind was set on something. “It will only take me a moment to bring back a cool drink.” I fled before she could object.

I was so determined not to treat her, as I would have in my younger days, that I was not particularly watching as I entered the hall. I had not taken more than a step or two before I collided with a rather solid object. A pair of firm hands grasped my shoulders, as I pushed away from the worsted wool of a finely tailored suit. The man into whom I had rushed was obviously well off. I sighed, hoping it was not an acquaintance of Nicholas who would tell my son that his mother was too flustered to be out in public, even two years after his father’s death. I took a deep breath and looked up into his face. Those blue eyes met mine for only a moment before they continued their search of the hall. He was obviously looking for his wife. The golden curls had faded into gray, but they were still as thick.

“Pardon me, ma’am,” his voice was still as smooth. “But I’m looking for my wife. Would you have been into the ladies’ retiring room recently?”

“Yes, I have, and yes, she was there.” Thaddeus looked down as he heard my voice. Confusion covered his face only for a moment. “Mrs. Fielding?”

“Yes, Mr. Jones.” I smiled. “Or I suppose I should say, Mr. Curry?” A small smile covered my face. “I was just going to get her a cool drink.”

“Your son came up to get his book signed, but he didn’t mention you were here.” He glanced at my obsidian dress. “He mentioned that your husband had died. I was going to ask about you, but then the subject changed.” As another woman passed by us to enter the ladies’ lounge, he took a step back and let go of my arms. “My apologies. You said Bessie was within?” He nodded towards the doorway.

“Yes,” I nodded. “It probably is best if you just let her be for a few more moments. She was rather flushed.”

“There was water at the speakers’ podium,” he remembered. “Perhaps I could bring some?”

“Oh, that would be wonderful,” I agreed. “Here, I will just accompany you, so you don’t need to rush to and fro.”

He held out his arm and I gently took it, as we reentered the lecture hall. I remembered Thaddeus as being unfailingly polite, but not so much of a gentleman. Perhaps we had all changed.

He let go of my arm, as he trotted up the stairs to the stage. The line had dissipated by that time, but there were a few people still milling about. I did not realized I spent so much time in the retiring room. I started to look around for Nicholas, certain he would be annoyed with me for losing track of time, when I heard a familiar voice.

“Mrs. Fielding? Edward’s wife, Lucy?” I turned back towards the stage and there coming down the stairs was the man who entranced me all those years ago. His hair was as gray as mine, if not more. His face sculpted by more lines than what I remembered, but still as handsome and commanding. Jedediah Curry was nodding, following him down the stairs, a water pitcher and glass in his hands.

“Yes, Heyes.” He smiled down at me. “And here she is.”

Hannibal Heyes took my hands more gently than I remembered him ever doing before. “Mrs. Fielding, it is so nice to see you again.” He glanced down at my black garb and continued. “Of course, we would have loved to have met up with Edward again, but unfortunately that wasn’t to be. Please accept our condolences.”

“Thank you.” The words slipped off my tongue without much conscious thought, after the past two years. As I had been telling myself lately, it did not mean that I loved Edward any less. And he would have been the first to tell me I still have a life to live. I took a deep breath to steady myself. I pasted the smile on my face that I used the last few months, once I was allowed to smile again, and determinedly turned towards Jedediah Curry.

“Mr. Curry,” I freed my hands from Hannibal Heyes and held them out to his partner. “Please let me take that to your wife. I’m certain she’s wondering where I am. I promised to bring her back a cool drink.” I felt Heyes’ curious eyes on me but I continued to look at his partner.

“It’s just Jed, um, Mrs. Fielding,” Curry smiled that sweet smile I remembered him giving Sister Grace. “I can walk down the hall with you and carry it, well, until we get to the ladies’ room.”

“Please just call me Lucy,” I returned Kid Curry’s smile. “We are old acquaintances, after all, are we not?” I turned briefly to his partner. “Mr. Heyes,” and then turned back to Curry. “Your wife was a little unsettled, so we best get this water to her, before she comes looking for it.” Heyes’ eyes met mine once more, as I turned to walk down the hall with Curry. Where I had known very easily what he had thought of me in the past, I was not certain what I saw in his eyes now.

“Yeah,” Jedediah Curry laughed softly. “You could say that.” He shook his head. “Had we known her, well, condition, I would have made certain she stayed at home.” He sighed. “She’s not as young as she was the other times.”

“How many children do you have, if I may ask?” I smiled up at him.

“Four others, three boys and a girl.” He shook his head. “The boys of course are hoping for another brother, but Bessie and I would like another girl, for Alex of course.”

“Alex?” I asked, a bit confused.

He smiled again. “Alexandra Elizabeth Curry, our daughter, who is currently eight.”

“What a lovely name,” I murmured, taking the glass of water from him, after he poured it from the pitcher.

“She was named after Bessie, and Heyes’ wife, of course.”

I suddenly remembered another reason why Elizabeth Warren Curry was shunned by certain social circles. Not only did she have the courage to marry one of the formerly most notorious outlaws in the history of the West, but there were rumors about his cousin’s wife, Alexandra Stanton Heyes. She came from money, from somewhere in the Midwest and had connections that spread far beyond. The rumor that refused to die, however, was how she and her brother regained their fortunes after their father lost his and committed suicide.

There were stories that she met Hannibal Heyes, while scouring the West for her brother, and he won a fortune for her at the poker tables. There were rumors that her brother, Charles, ran with the Devil’s Hole gang for a while and got rich that way.

None of the rumors were either proven or really disproven, so the air of respectability Curry and Heyes cultivated and for which they fought long and hard, still had a gray tinge. One did not know if it was the two of them who affected Elizabeth Warren’s and Alexandra Stanton’s reputation or the other way around.

“Did Mrs. Heyes accompany you too, on this trip?” I asked before I turned to go back into the ladies’ retiring room. If she had, I wondered where she might be. I would have thought she could have spared a moment for the woman who was basically her sister-in-law, who was obviously not doing well.

Jedediah Curry paused, and looked at me with those blue eyes, seemingly asking a question that I did not know how to answer.

“Alex died over a year ago.’ He paused again. “It’s one of the reasons we delayed the book and tour.”

Suddenly it occurred to me that Hannibal Heyes was all in black, except for the white of his shirt. It was nothing unusual for a man, but with the gaily printed waist coats Nicholas wore these days, I should have noticed.

Jed Curry was in a dove gray suit, with a muted deep purple waist coat. If I remembered correctly, Bessie Curry was in lilac. I had not thought it was the best color for her, but it probably was better than gray, with her fair complexion.

“Oh, I am so sorry, Mr. Curry,” I started.

“Remember, it’s Jedediah,” he interrupted softly.

“Jedediah.” I took a breath. “I have been in mourning myself, but that probably is no excuse for me not knowing.”

“How could you?” he asked. “We didn’t know that Edward had died.” He paused. “I was afraid to ask your son about you, when he didn’t offer.”

“My children did make certain I have fully observed mourning for my dear husband,” I sighed, but continued. “But they did still let me read the papers.”

“Probably not from Wyoming, or Cincinnati,” he said softly.

“No,” I smiled and nodded. “That is where Mrs. Heyes was from? I knew it was in the Midwest somewhere.”

“We didn’t see the need to publish the news further.”

“No, I could see that.” I knew what it was to be disliked. “But your Bessie is probably wondering where on earth I went for water.” I smiled once more at him and turned with the glass of water.


	3. Chapter 3

Elizabeth Warren Curry did not look like she had been worried about me at all. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was deep and regular. The flush that covered her face when she originally sat down, was gone, replaced by her natural, soft porcelain skin. Her hair gently surrounded her face. I sat down on the edge of the burgundy tufted chair next to her and set the glass of cool water on the carved mahogany table in between us. I had just decided to go let Jed Curry know his wife was resting, when she opened her eyes, and saw the water.

“Oh, praise the Lord.” She picked up the chilled glass, took a deep sip, and settled it on her expanding midsection, as she closed her eyes again for a moment.

“I’m ever so sorry I didn’t bring it sooner, but it looks like you might have made good use of the time while I was gone.” I smiled gently at her. How could anyone dislike this woman, who still looked like a small, blonde princess, even at her age and even obviously in the family way. I heard that she had a sharp tongue. I wondered if they confused her with Alexandra Stanton Heyes. I knew women who had personally run afoul of her.

She laughed quietly. “Yes, I am rather exhausted, even if you are too kind to point out that I probably look like I’ve been run over by a train.”

I laughed back. “Not at all.”

“You are much nicer than Hannibal has said,” she said, rather offhandedly.

“What?” I asked more bemused, rather than upset. Perhaps the tales of her tongue were true.

“I heard you talking in the hallway with my husband,” she answered and opened her eyes. “You are Lucy Fielding, the wife of the Edward they mention in the book, who championed the Chiricahua.”

“Yes,” I answered simply, wondering what Hannibal Heyes told her about me.

“How long ago did your husband pass away?” she asked quietly.

“It has been over two years now.” I looked down and turned away slightly.

“I hope Hannibal has recovered as well as you are after two years,” she said, regaining my attention. “He may look like he is doing well now, but it has all been for the book tour. If we hadn’t made him do this, he’d still be sitting in their parlor, drinking himself to sleep.”

“Did it help him forget?” I asked.

“No,” she replied.

“I don’t want to forget,” I stated. “Maybe he needs to realize that.”

She smiled delightfully at me. “Hannibal said he remembered you as a woman more concerned about her own needs than others.” She paused briefly, but then continued. “He said he wasn’t certain you and Edward would still be together. They hadn’t asked about you when they contacted him about including him in the book.”

I sighed deeply, but still smiled at this woman who was interesting enough to have captured Kid Curry’s attention. “No, I don’t imagine I left them with the best impression of me, all those years ago, in that dusty, little town.”

“Apache Springs,” she supplied.

“Yes,” I looked at her, very surprised.

“Jedediah took me back there years ago, to see if Caroline Rangely was still alive,” she smiled, as if recalling a fond memory.

“And she was?” I asked, knowing the answer.

“Oh, yes,” Bessie replied laughing. “And from what I understand from Jed, just as, well, animated as ever.”

I smiled. “When we left there, she was talking about ‘pulling up stakes and movin’ on’ since she had been able to retrieve all her gold.”

“She married that hotel manager, ah, Smithers, wasn’t it?”

“Charlie Smithers?” I asked, very surprised in one way, but really not in another. “Did she buy that run down hotel from him and redo it?”

“It seems that she owned it already,” Bessie answered, shaking her head.

“Really?” I was even more surprised.

“Yes, her husband, um,” she hesitated.

“Barney,” I supplied.

“Oh, yes,” she smiled. ‘Barney. Well, it seems that they built that hotel originally, during the gold rush. Smithers came to Apache Junction as a miner. Seems he wasn’t very successful, so started helping out at the hotel, when they had enough business to need it.”

“So did they spruce it up, with all of Mrs. Rangely’s gold?” I smiled. “Or did she keep half of it for Barney still?”

“I think they reroofed the place, but no, I think Caroline was much too fond of that gold to part with much.”

We laughed together for a moment until we heard a not so subtle cough from the doorway.

“I’d hate to make a scene, by coming on in there,” Jed Curry started. “But I think the hotel folks here want to close up the lecture hall. Bessie, you wouldn’t happen to be ready to head back up to the room, would you?” The Kid actually eased himself into the lounge area, past the deep velvet draperies, looking around carefully, as if a posse might still be laying in wait for them, rather than just another lingering woman.

His curls might be more silver than golden these days, but his eyes were still as piercingly blue and his smile just as lovely. He glanced briefly my way, nodding, but then approached his wife, sitting on the arm of her chair, reaching out for the glass of water in her hands, and handing it to me.

She smiled back, with equally brilliant blue eyes. “Jedediah Thaddeus Curry, if you think I’m going to bed with no supper, you would be wrong.” She turned to me. “Mrs. Fielding, would you need a late supper partner?”

“Who is talking about supper?” Another voice made its way into the room, soon to be followed by its source. Hannibal Heyes might not have the piercing blue eyes of his cousin, but chocolate brown seemed much warmer than I remembered previously. “Kid?”

“Can’t say as that I’m not hungry,” Jed Curry stated and his partner rolled his eyes. “But it was Bessie here.”

Hannibal Heyes met my eyes once more. “It sounds like a trip to Delmonico’s is in order.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely,” came out of my mouth and Bessie Curry’s simultaneously. All four of us laughed and any tension remaining seemed to flow out of the room.

“Mother. Really.” 

Suddenly the tension returned. There, in the doorway of the women’s retiring room, anger and confusion warring in his body and countenance, stood my son, Nicholas.

“Mother, I believe they are waiting on you to close up here.” My son never seemed to approve of my actions these days, but I could tell the discussion would be long and intense in the carriage ride home.

“Now, excuse me, sir,” Elizabeth Warren Curry, with the help of her husband, leveraged herself out of the tufted chair and approached my son. She had to look up a foot or so, but I believe he might have taken a step back as she approached. Heyes and Curry just smiled and both rolled their eyes. “But I believe it was me that was delaying your poor mother here. She was so good to me, getting me a cool drink, and bringing my husband and cousin, to insure she did not leave me without help and comfort.”

For once, Nicholas was speechless. He looked down at the very animated, but obviously very pregnant woman in front of him. He then looked towards the other two men in the room. I could see the moment he made the connection. He suddenly realized that I had been ministering to the wife of one of the two formerly most notorious outlaws in the history of the West.

It was all well and good to come to the talk and get the book signed, but to be gathered so intimately, I could tell it was bothering him. Just as he was about to speak, one of the hotel maids timidly scurried in.

“Ladies, sirs, Mr. Meecham, the manager here, would like to know when you might be vacating the, um, ladies retiring room.” Her eyes sidled up to look at the boys, almost as if she did not want to admit they breached decorum to enter a ladies retiring room. She then turned to Bessie Curry, smiling sweetly at her, as she noticed her condition. The maid then turned to me and Nicholas. Even though her tone was deferential, her chin raised a bit. Her eyes had been hard, but softened slightly, noticing my black gown. She sighed. “Perhaps you could continue this discussion in a more, um, congenial place?” She asked hopefully. I imagined she was waiting only for us to leave to start cleaning and that her manager wanted her to be finished as soon as possible.

“Of course,” I smiled a gracious society smile, reminding her of all of our stations in life, even if some of us started out differently.

“I think we were talking of Delmonico’s,” the Kid started.

“That sounds lovely,” Bessie smiled up at him, as she took his arm and started out into the hall.

Hannibal Heyes smiled back at them, as he started to follow, but then turned towards me. His smile faded only a second and then returned even brighter. I could tell, as Bessie had mentioned, that it wasn’t a fully genuine smile. I wondered if that was because of his wife, because of me, or perhaps both.

“You are joining us, of course,” he said smoothly.

“Delmonico’s?” Nicholas made it sound like he proposed to adjourn to a house of ill repute. “At this time of night?” He looked at me with a stern visage, as if I was the child and he the adult. “No, no, I’m sorry. I must get Mother home to rest. She is still of a delicate constitution.”

I did not know if I wanted to go to Delmonico’s this late in the evening, with two men who never thought highly of me, but I decided I needed to remind my son I was still the parent, regardless of our ages, regardless of my widowed status. Maybe because of it. Yes, it was definitely time to put aside my black dresses. A soft smile wafted across my face and my eyes twinkled at Hannibal Heyes, before I turned to face my son. A look of bemusement covered his, but then he just returned my smile.

“Nicholas, I believe you have some important meetings in the morning,” I started.

“Well, yes, Mother, it is getting late, so we best start off.” He made to take my arm and lead me away, like the naughty child he seemed to think I was.

I smiled sharply at him and he paused. It had been many years since I needed, or perhaps wanted, to use that demeanor and correct him. I turned to Hannibal Heyes, and gave him my best society smile, for anything else would have worried my son.

“I believe you and your lovely cousins invited me to dinner.” Heyes nodded, still bemused. I turned back to Nicholas. “It would be rude of me to decline such a gracious offer.” His face did not convey bemusement. I could tell his frustration was giving way to anger. Before he could form an answer that would be polite, Hannibal Heyes had no problem coming up with a reply.

“As interesting as you all probably found the talk about our book, I’m certain you must be hungry.” He turned to me with what I could tell was an overdone smile, but his eyes were dancing. In some way his smile seemed out of practice, but in other ways perhaps more genuine than what had graced his face earlier. “With the timing, I’m certain you did not have your normal evening meal.”

I did not want to tell Hannibal Heyes how sad my evening meals were these days. Unless Vicki or Nick had guests over, Cook simply made us a piece of fish or chicken, or perhaps soup. It was nourishing, and tasty, and I had wanted nothing more since Edward was no longer there to share it.

“I’m certain Cook can warm something up for us,” Nicholas’ impatience was growing. “And we must get home for dinner, or Mrs. Wilcox will be very inconvenienced.” Knowing my son, he was only worried about his inconvenience, and getting to bed on time.

“We can make certain your mother gets home safely, Mr. Fielding. Heyes’ smile was plastered on his face.

“Oh, but that would not be, well, proper.” My son was not going to concede.

“Why not?” Hannibal Heyes’ natural contentiousness came to the fore. “She will be properly chaperoned by my cousin’s wife.” He locked eyes with my son, until even Nicholas gave up trying to think of a reason why a very pregnant woman would not be an adequate chaperone.

“Mother,” Nick tried one last time. “It is really rather late.”

“Then there should be no problem getting into Delmonico’s quickly and getting your mother home in no time.” Hannibal Heyes was not giving up either.

My son gave me a look that told me exactly what he though of these plans. I knew our discussion had only been delayed from the carriage ride home tonight until the next morning.

“Then I best stop delaying our leaving, so Mr. Curry can get his wife to bed sometime tonight.” I gave my son a look that he had not seen in a very long time and turned curtly to Hannibal Heyes. A rather genuine, but bit crooked smile, washed over his face, as he put out his arm for me to take.

“Mother, really.” 

I stopped once more, and turned to him, with a look I do not think I used in years. “Son.”

Nicholas started to approach, his arm out to physically take me from the grasp of an even formerly notorious outlaw.

“I believe you have the claim ticket for my wrap,” I said, forestalling him. Surprise filled his eyes, but he pulled out a slip of paper from the pocket of his dapper, blue vest. He was going to reluctantly hand it to me, but Heyes intercepted him, plucking it from his numb fingers.

“Thank you, sir,” Heyes was at his most haughty, and I knew I had seen haughty on his face all those years ago, to combat the same looks on mine. He stowed the ticket in the pocket of his obsidian tapestry vest and then smiled down at me. “Ready?”

“Yes, Mr. Heyes, I am.”


	4. Chapter 4

I did not remember the last time I enjoyed an evening so much. After such initial trepidation at attending the book reading, I was more relaxed, and well, yes, happier than I had been since we knew the cancer would take my Edward’s life. For a woman once known for her distinct and condescending opinions, I for the most part sat quietly and just smiled genuinely for the first time in ages.

The relationship between the three of them was of such a long standing nature, that they just went from one topic to another, some continuations of discussions that must have started years ago. Yet I did not feel left out. If confusion crossed my face, one of them would stop and explain and we would all end up laughing. Hannibal Heyes, of course, was a master storyteller. I had not really seen much of that during our time together in Apache Springs. The boys were either busy with securing Caroline’s gold, or resting up from such attempts. Even at the dinners we shared, Heyes had often asked more questions than he answered. I did not really noticed it at the time, not being very concerned with the thoughts of two drifters, but I imagine it was a very effective way to avoid answering questions to which they had no good answers.

Even compared to the silver tongue of Hannibal Heyes, both Bessie and Jed Curry could spin tales that had me laughing so hard I had to dab tears from my face at one point. We received a few curious looks, but even though it was Delmonico’s, it was late at night, and most of the judgmental people were long ago at home and in bed. They had a comfort and friendship among the three of them, that I sharply envied. Edward and I eventually developed a deep understanding and abiding love, but I don’t know if we ever enjoyed each other’s company to a such a great extent.

I was taking a drink of wine, after laughing through the end of a story, when I looked around and noticed we were almost the last people in the restaurant. Heyes captured my gaze and nodded.

“Yes, it’s probably time to take you home.” He grimaced. “Did we cause you trouble with your son?”

“Oh, yes, probably,” I replied, but smiled. “I certain he will want to discuss my ill behavior, but he should be off early for work in the morning, so I should be able to avoid him until tonight.”

Bessie then yawned. “Oh, pardon me!” She sighed and patted her rounded midsection. “This one makes me so much more tired than the other children did.” She glared at Heyes, and he raised his hands in surrender, giving her a genuine, sweet smile. “I’m not saying a word.”

“Now, Bessie,” Curry put his arm around his wife and started to help her up. “Even I have had enough to eat. We’d best get you back to the hotel, to rest, or you definitely will not be feeing well in the morning.”

“I’m not sick,” she replied a bit cross, but then smiled at him.

“We know that,” he said stubbornly. “And want to keep it that way.” His blue eyes matched hers for determination, but then she sighed and spoke over her shoulder as they started towards the door.

“I know I’m going to love this one as much, but why couldn’t he have come when when I had more energy?”

I whispered to Heyes, as he pulled back my chair. “She’s had more energy?” We hurried to follow the Currys, so as not to be left behind.

“I heard that.” Her voice quietly wafted back towards us as we all approached the carriage stand.

“Yes,” Heyes whispered even more quietly into my ear. “It’s nice that she’s slowed down some recently.”

“I heard that too,” she turned in Curry’s arms before stepping up into the interior.

I stopped Heyes, as he would hand me up too. “You should be taking Mrs. Curry back to the hotel.”

He nodded.

“Well, I live in the opposite direction, by the park.” I looked determinedly up into his still face. Nick would never know, unless the cousins told him, which would not happen. I knew the doorman here at Delmonico’s. It was a favorite place of Edward’s. I had not been back since his death, but it was still Mason who guarded the door.

“But we promised your son that we’d get you home safely,” Heyes insisted, looking at me like I was still the silly young woman he knew in Apache Springs.

I turned towards the doorman. “Mason will make certain he sends me with a safe coachman.”

Heyes looked up questioningly at the doorman, who looked the epitome of respectability. 

“I surely will,” Mason agreed with me. He smiled softly at my dark dress. “We still miss seeing you and Mr. Fielding here.”

“It was so very nice to be back,” I smiled up at him and then turned to Heyes. “I will be fine. It was so very nice seeing you all again,” I continued as I started to move away to the carriage Mason called forward. I thought all was settled as Heyes turned towards the Currys. However after a brief conversation, he closed the door and stepped away as it pulled off. He turned towards me with a smile.

“Edward would not forgive me if I let you ride home by yourself.” It was a soft, in some way sad smile that came across his face. He then turned towards Mason, speaking softly but firmly. “Please be assured that my only concern is that Mrs. Fielding arrives home safely.” I could see echos of the Devil’s Hole leader in his control of the situation. Luckily what Mason saw was a man who even though his carriage was still straight and strong, his thick hair was mostly gray, and his face was filled with the lines of character. I think what convinced Mason though, was even though Heyes’ suit was well made and obviously hand tailored, it was as stark black as my own clothing. Some of the lines on his face looked new. He also still wore his wedding ring, a beautiful spiral of varying shades of gold.

“That is my primary concern also.” Mason opened the carriage door for me and Heyes helped me in.

At first we were quiet. In spite of my common bravado, I had never been alone with a man who was not my husband, even with all our years in the West. My heart beat a bit faster and my mind turned back to thoughts from all those years ago in Apache Springs. Then I just smiled softly to myself. Hannibal Heyes had not particularly cared for me then and now he was obviously still mourning his wife.

“What made you smile?” he asked in a such a gentle voice that I had to look up into his eyes. They glittered in reflection of the street lamps as we passed them.

“Did you dislike me as much as it seemed, back when we first met?”

He laughed heartily and I joined him for a moment. He smiled down at me.

“I take it you learned quite a lot during your years out West.”

I nodded and looked out at the passing night. “And since.” 

“Did Edward suffer much?”

It was a question I hated from sympathizers. My husband died of cancer. I know the excruciating pain I went through watching him die. I did not want to be reminded of what he must have endured. I nodded. “But you know Edward. He was only concerned about how much it affected me and the children.”

He gently took my hand. I looked up at him, but he was gazing out of the cab. “That is what took Red, my wife, Alex, too.” He was silent for a while, softly massaging my hand. I don’t know if he was aware of it. 

“You’ve changed,” he finally said.

“I had some good advice years ago, about appreciating what I had.” I waited until he looked at me. “It was good advice, even if it was from a notorious outlaw.”

He laughed. “When did you find out who we were?”

“When Nicholas showed me the book,” I answered wondering at the question.

“Edward never told you?” he asked just curious.

“No,” I paused. “He knew?” I was a bit amazed.

“Oh, not in Apache Springs,” Heyes laughed and then sobered a bit. “It was when we met him later, in Wyoming, after we received our amnesty.”

“We lived in Denver for a while,” I nodded. “When the children were young, I didn’t travel with him.”

He smiled down at me. “The Kid asked after you. I wasn’t certain we wanted the answer, but Edward, he just glowed when he talked about you and the children.”

“I did try to make him happy,” I replied simply. “I think, for the most part, I was successful.”

He nodded. “What more can you ask of any marriage?” He fell silent again and looked out the window. He started to draw away his hand, but I resisted, until he looked back down at me.

“I’ve heard that your marriage was happy,” I said softly.

He smiled and a beautiful look came over his face. “Yes,” he said simply and laughed softly. “As much as any marriage can be.”

We pulled up in front of my home, the lovely house in New York that Edward finally bought for me, after we inherited money from both of our families. Heyes gave me a gentle kiss on the cheek and turned to get out of the carriage before I could react. He turned back to hold his hand out to me to help me down, smiling, but a bit sadly.

“It was nice to see you again, Lucy.”

“And you too,” I said as we walked up the stairs. “Mr. Heyes.”

“Please call me Hannibal.” 

“Do most people?” I asked, honestly curious.

His laugh was infectious. “No.” He shook his head. “Only Red did. My wife,” he added when I looked confused.

I nodded, appreciative of the gift he gave me, knowing in many ways I did not deserve it.

“Then, thank you, Hannibal, for such a lovely evening.”

He kissed my hand before Stewart, our butler, opened the door.

“Good night, Lucy.” I saw something in his eyes, but wasn’t certain what it was, before he turned back to the carriage.

I stood on the door stoop watching him walk down the stairs, even as Stewart cleared this throat. 

Heyes turned back as he reached the carriage, touched the brim of his hat, and was gone.

I lay awake in my bed a long time that night.


	5. Chapter 5

It was two days later that Hannibal Heyes again came to the house.

I slept in the day after our late night dinner at Delmonico’s. I know Mrs. Forrest, my housekeeper, and Stewart gave me looks when I didn’t come down until luncheon, but Mrs. Wilcox, my lovely cook, made me a coddled egg and crisp toast for breakfast. It was what I always preferred, after Edward and I were out for the evening, either at a party, or reception. It along with some chamomile tea always settled my stomach after any excesses of the night before. She sent up a bit of raspberry jam too, just in case my night had not been quite that wild. I made certain to use some of that.

Honestly, other than feeling the need to sleep a bit later, I felt wonderful that morning. The food at Delmonico’s was always perfectly prepared, so my stomach was far from unsettled, even eating as late as I did. I smiled. When Edward and I had been regularly attending soirees, to gather support for various causes and needs that came to us with his different positions in the government, we often ate much later. Granted, I now was a bit older, and definitely out of practice, after nursing my husband during the last year of his life, and retreating from society the two years since.

I honestly did not have any desire to return to the swirl of society balls and dinners, since Edward died. Initially, it was truly because I just couldn’t bear it without him, my grief was that deep, even after knowing for so long that the end was certain. After the deep mourning had dulled, when I just missed him desperately, I wasn’t certain I wanted to go out without him any more. I always wondered at those widows who withdrew from society after the death of their spouse. I was not able to understand, until I felt the same.

I had been perfectly happy to sit at home and do needlework and garden, I who wanted to be the toast of Paris and London. It wasn’t until Vicki not so subtly started prompting me, that she wanted to resume her search for a husband, that I realized I might have healed enough to actually attend a few events with her. I would miss Edward forever. There was nothing that would fill the hole I felt inside, but I did find that I could again suffer society fools, when they asked how I was doing without him.

It was only in recent months, that Vicki and I resumed our regular Tuesday afternoons when we received callers. At first it was just fellow widows, some who honestly commiserated, some who gloated. Recently, as delighted Vicki, it included mothers who had eligible sons. As it became known that Edward, while departed, had left Vicki and me rather well situated, the number of searching mothers steadily increased. Occasionally they brought along their sons. More often conversations were held to conveniently meet at the next social event, whether a dinner, or ball to which we were both invited, or plans to meet at a book reading.

Vicki declined to attend the boys’ presentation, on the pretext that it wasn’t quite ladylike to listen to the exploits of former outlaws. She worried about me attending, until I told her frankly, I had already met the boys years ago, so the acquaintance was already there. I assured her it was better for me to briefly greet them at such an event, than to invite them to the house. She agreed and I was overjoyed, as my curiosity was peaked by the book.

I could have told her that it probably would have been an excellent talk to attend and my perusal of the audience only confirmed my thinking. It was mainly men, including a lot of young, eligible men, who were interested in such a subject. She would have stood out from the bevy of young women who were currently on the market by her attendance. I did not mention it to her however, as she would have only told me that was not the type of attention she desired.

I did not avoid the discussion with Nicholas by sleeping late that day, but I did delay it until that evening. It gave me time to fortify myself.

“Mother, what were you thinking?” Nicholas did not waste any time, exclaiming as he strode into the parlor, and joined us for tea after he returned home from work.

“And did you have a pleasant day at work, too, Nick?” I tried not to take his bait, pouring out a cup of tea for him. As he took it, I could tell his mind was still on last evening.

“No, Mother, you can’t get out of this discussion.” He pulled himself up to his full height, towering over me, teacup in hand. “It is for your own good.”

“Whatever has happened?” Vicki looked confused, but intrigued nonetheless. She, of course, was in bed by the time I returned from Delmonico’s. Luckily, so was Nickolas.

“Mother, you must realize how your actions will reflect upon me and Vicki” He was not about to let go of this topic.

“Mother,” Vicki echoed her brother, a bit of excited shock on her face. “What have you done?”

“All I did was go to dinner at Delmonico’s with friends.” I was determined to remain the parent in this situation.

“Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry are not your friends!” Nicholas’ face turned a bright shade of pink.

Vicki looked astounded, but wonderingly first at her brother then at me.

“Yes, Nicholas,” I looked up at him with a steady stare. “Yes, they are. They were friends of your father’s most definitely.”

“But he didn’t know who they were,” he replied, certain of himself.

“Oh, but he did,” I replied.

“Well, yes, probably when they sent him the letter about the book,” Nicholas started, but I interrupted.

“No, Hannibal told me your father knew, that they had met up again in Wyoming, after the amnesty.”

“You call him Hannibal?” Vicki was delightedly amazed. I could see the stories swirling behind her eyes, that she thought about telling her friends, all in confidence, of course.

“Mother this cannot continue!” Nicholas set down his tea, so firmly it sloshed over into the saucer. He still tried to tower over me.

“Why ever not?” I looked calmly up to meet his eyes, determination in mine. 

“What will Lily’s family think?” he continued.

I could see Vicki’s mind start to wrap around what being acquainted with Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry might do to her search for a spouse. Surprisingly, I did not see shock cover her face, but rather just a thoughtful look.

I was ready to be done with this conversation. “Oh, Nicky, just sit down.” I waited until he complied, then I reached out to grasp his hand. “I doubt if I will ever see them again, Nick. They were just here on their book tour and I’m certain soon will be gone to complete it, or head back to Wyoming.” I smiled remembering. “Bessie Curry probably needs to head home.”

“Bessie Curry?” Vicki inquired, still very interested.

“Yes, Jedediah Curry’s wife,” I started to reply.

“Any man who had his wife out in public,” he paused, and pulled himself up, expressing his disapproval. “In, well, that condition.”

“What condition?” Vicki interrupted, breathlessly. She, at least, seemed to be relishing the tale.

Nick, bless him, started to blush. I wondered how and if he and Lily would manage to give me grandchildren.

“She was a bit pregnant,” I replied.

“One cannot be a bit, well, that way,” Nicholas insisted.

“Pregnant?” Vicki exclaimed, then looked thoughtful. “But, aren’t they, um, your age, Mama?”

“I believe the boys were a bit younger than your father and perhaps me,” I smiled remembering Kid Curry’s vivacious wife. “And Bessie is quite a bit younger than her husband.”

“Still, not the thing that is expected,” Nick continued. “And she was old enough, well, to not need to be in that condition.”

I laughed softly, wondering again about grandchildren. Vicki’s eyes were sparkling and I could almost hear her thinking about how Jedediah Curry’s wife came to be in such a state.

“They were obviously still very much in love with each other,” I started, remembering how tenderly Kid Curry treated his wife.

“Mother!” Nicholas blushed again.

“Oh, Nicky,” Vicki shook her head at her brother. “It’s not as if they weren’t married.” She looked at me then. “They are, aren’t they?”

“Oh, yes,” I nodded. “For years. They have four other children, Jedediah told me.” I looked at my son, worried that he had turned out more like me than his dear father. “Elizabeth Warren Curry is the daughter of the first Senator from Wyoming, Francis Warren.”

“Oh, really?” Vicki asked. I could again see her brain churning.

“That means little,” Nicholas insisted. “He was the governor who agreed to the amnesty deal in first place, probably because his daughter was already involved with the outlaws.”

“Really?” Vicki was enjoying this story much too much.

“It’s all in the book,” Nicholas insisted.

“Really?” I echoed my daughter. 

“Well,” Nicholas backed down a bit. “It does mention that Warren was the governor when they started their quest for amnesty.”

“Did it say they knew Bessie already?” I calculated for a moment. “She couldn’t have been more than a child then.”

Nicholas cleared his throat. “Well, they are outlaws and she probably grew up in the wilds of Wyoming.”

“So did you two,” I reminded him.

“We were in Denver,” he contradicted.

“Not when you were born.”

“Well,” he continued. “It still is not the best connection to have.” He lifted his chin.

“Alexandra Stanton Heyes worked with Alva Vanderbilt Belmont to establish science academies for girls.”

“A notorious divorcee?” Nicholas shook his head.

“But her husband now is associated with the Rothschilds!” Vicki exclaimed. “And her children are still Vanderbilts.” 

“What is Hannibal Heyes doing taking you to dinner then?” Nicholas continued. “Where was his wife?”

Vicki looked at me. “You went to Delmonico’s with Hannibal Heyes? After the book reading? Late at night?” She looked like she was about to agree with her brother.

“Yes, I went to Delmonico’s with Hannibal Heyes,” I started, held up my hand as both Nick and Vicki were about to interrupt me. ‘And along with us were Jedediah Curry and Elizabeth Warren Curry, who in her advanced state of the family way, was a very adequate chaperone.”

“Oh.” Vicki looked disappointed, but Nicholas continued.

“But where was his wife? If Curry had his wife in New York City, on a book tour, in such a state, where was Mrs. Heyes?” He looked vindicated.

“Jedediah told me that Alexandra Heyes died last year.” I stared at my son until he looked suitably embarrassed. I then looked at Vicki. “He was in a lovely black wool suit.” I looked at my son who was no longer dressed in mourning, in a bright blue and green waist coast. “With me in my black silk, it was very obvious that we were both still in mourning.” I smiled softly at the memory. “We talked about your father’s passing and how he very much still missed his wife."

“Oh,” Vicki returned my soft smile and then looked more harshly at her brother. “It sounds like mother had a very nice time with old friends.” She looked at me with new eyes. “I guess I have to finally agree that it is more than time for you to start wearing your new wardrobe.”

I smiled back at her. “Perhaps we can get you a soft mauve, or blue gray dress or two, for the upcoming season.”

She smiled too. “Yes, I think Papa would have liked that.”

“Yes, I do too.”


	6. Chapter 6

I had just settled into the drawing room, after another delightful little meal from Cook. I think she at least was happy that I was coming out of my deep mourning and able to utilize her wonderful skills again. Vicki was still putting the final touches on her toilette. She had gone back up to her room after luncheon to make certain her appearance was highlighted to its utmost for receiving.

I sighed. There was little I could do with my two year old black dresses, so I was just settling in with a book of light poetry, when I did not have to wait any longer for callers. I sighed, thinking it must be some overeager mother, as I heard a male voice in the hall that was not Stewart. My eyes widened then, recognizing the voice. No, it couldn’t be, I thought, right before Hannibal Heyes walked into my parlor.

“Mr. Heyes,” I said, trying to hide my pleasant surprise.

He came to take my hand before he sat in the armchair beside me. “Remember I told you to call me Hannibal, Lucy.” His smile seemed more genuine that day. “I think I may have taken advantage, calling you Lucy.”

“Maybe,” I agreed and smiled back at him. “But we’ve known each other so many years, it would be silly not to.”

Vicki chose that moment to make her appearance. I could tell from the startled look on her face that hearing the male voice, she thought I was entertaining one of the young men come to court her.

“Mr. Heyes.” I could see his eyes flicker at my use of the formal address. “This is Edward’s and my daughter, Victoria.” I turned towards my daughter, my eyes pleading for her to be polite. “Victoria, this is Mr. Hannibal Heyes, whose acquaintance I was fortunate to enough to renew.”

Vicki’s eyes widened a bit, but I should have known her excellently honed manners would remain intact. She held our her hand for Hannibal to take. I was surprised until I wondered if it was to get him to release mine.

“Mr. Heyes,” she smiled politely. “My mother and brother have told me about your fascinating book.” She was trying to keep him into her current social realm, of informational talks and glittering society events. I wondered how much she actually let herself remember about growing up out West.

He returned her smile with a lovely one of his own. I noticed his eyes twinkled a bit before he replied. “You have not had time to read it for yourself?”

“Oh,” she was a bit nonplussed, but then being my daughter, quickly recovered. “With my brother, Nicholas’s description, I wasn’t quite certain it was for young ladies.”

Hannibal’s smile genuinely widened, as he realized he had been suitably chastened. “True. Perhaps your brother is correct.” He turned towards me. “Have you read it?”

“Yes,” I smiled back at him as I indicated we should all sit. “I”m afraid I’ve absconded with Nick’s copy and started reading it.”

“Mother, do you really think, um, that is proper reading material for you?” Vicki had the graciousness to look a bit embarrassed and turned towards Hannibal. “We do have to watch out for our dear mother these days, since Papa is gone.”

Hannibal returned her comment with a wry smile. “I never knew your mother to need that much help taking care of herself.” He turned and now was the one to give me an apologetic smile.

I simply laughed briefly and replied. “Very true, Mr. Heyes.” I turned towards Vicky to mollify her. “I wanted to read it since they mentioned your father.”

“Let me assure both of you, that we only had good things to say about Edward,” Heyes replied. “He was a much braver man than either the Kid or I were.”

“Thank you for your kind thoughts,” Vicki smiled sweetly back at him, a bit mollified, but his words made me think.

“Yes, he was, wasn’t he?” I responded distinctly.

“Yes, he was,” Hannibal said. “We met so many good people in our travels. That was part of the reason we wanted to do the book.”

“But surely not all were as good as Papa,” Vicki queried. 

I met Hannibal Heyes’ eyes and we shared a quiet smile. He turned towards my daughter. “No, they were not all good. We wrote about them too.”

“But should Mother read about them?”

“Sometimes you need to know about the bad as well as the good, my dear,” I replied to my daughter, all the while holding the gaze of Hannibal Heyes.

My daughter was determined to chaperone me, as long as Hannibal and I were visiting and reminiscing about the old West. Fortunately for us all, though, her friend, Betty, called, to take Vicki on a carriage ride in the park.

Betty was speechless for a moment when I introduced her and her companion, Miss Turner, to Hannibal Heyes.

“The outlaw?” Betty finally exclaimed.

“Former outlaw, I assure you.” He smiled at both ladies and I could see his charm starting to work. It did not seem to have decreased with age.

“Mr. Heyes and his partner are on a book tour,” Vicki interjected to get back to the world in which she felt comfortable.

“How fascinating,” Betty responded.

“They mentioned Papa in their book,” Vicki said, to explain his presence in our house. “From his work with the native peoples.”

“Yes, we met Mr. Fielding when he was working out West,” Hannibal said smiling.

“That is very interesting,” Betty started, but her companion interjected when she paused for a breath.

“If you want to take the carriage around the park, Miss, we should take advantage of the nice weather while we have it.”

“Certainly, Miss Turner.” Betty turned back to Hannibal. “Would you care to accompany us, Mr. Heyes?”

He laughed sweetly. “Certainly you lovely young ladies would attract much better attention, without either of us older folks along.”

Betty paused, having hoped for some interesting tales to tell her circle of acquaintances. “That is true, Mr. Heyes. It was a pleasure to meet you.” She obviously decided meeting Hannibal Heyes was tale enough, with young men’s eyes to capture in the park.

“But, Mother,” Vicki glanced at me and then at Hannibal. “Perhaps we should just all go for a ride?”

“No, Vicki,” I admonished her. “Hr. Heyes and I will be fine here. I believe Mrs. Wilcox will soon send in the tea.” I reminded her that we were very well chaperoned with the house full of staff. I smiled that she was even concerned. I guess she didn’t know the story of how little a certain Joshua Smith cared for me.

“Tea sounds wonderful,” Hannibal Heyes gave the girls his lovely smile and off they went twittering to the park.

Mrs. Wilcox did indeed bring in the tea soon after that and we were kept busy and occupied for a bit with passing cups and sandwiches and cakes.

A silence fell between us as we sipped.

“I did have a reason I wanted to visit,” he finally said.

“Oh?” I smiled, a bit sadly. “My charming personality alone wasn’t enough to tempt you?”

His smile in return was genuine. “I wanted to apologize for how I treated you, all those years ago.”

I have to admit his words took me by surprise.

“But, Hannibal, I was a bit of a spoiled brat in my younger days.” I looked away, but his smile was contagious.

“So was I.” His eyes actually sparkled for the first time today. He laughed. “And now look at us. We are a pair of old crows.” He nodded down at his expertly tailored obsidian suit and my black silk dress. “Maybe we should be cawing?”

“Or cackling?” I returned his laugh, not exactly cackling, but amused nonetheless. “I know I am just an old woman now, but you and Thaddeus, that is, Jedediah, are the toast of the town.”

“I don’t see that you’ve changed much, Lucy.” He smiled at me and I saw the softness in his eyes that I hoped for all those years ago.

“Is that a good thing?” I asked with a raised brow.

He smiled once more, soft and sweetly. “I was just meaning that you are as lovely as you ever were.”

“Did you honestly think I was pretty back when we first met?” I laughed and a flush came to his face. “I rather got the opposite impression.”

“I never said you weren’t pretty,” he replied honestly. “Just married to a man I always greatly admired.”

“Edward was better than I deserved,” I replied also very honestly.

“Yes, he was.” Hannibal nodded, then I could see a sliver of devilment in his eyes. “You probably were more deserving of a washed-up outlaw, than a good man like Edward.”

I wasn’t quite certain what to reply, so looked down and took a drink of my cooling tea.

“I’m sorry, Lucy. I pushed a bit too far, didn’t I?” He set down his tea cup and a sad grin came to his face. “I told you I was not the best behaved man, when I was younger.” He started to get up to leave, but I reached out and captured his hand. He looked down and then boldly back into my eyes, as he sat down. I read so much in that lovely expressive face of his. Life, loss, rebirth, deep sorrow, utter joy. Confusion as deep as my own.

“I think we need some fresh air,” I said softly. “Would you like to take a walk in the park?”

He simply nodded. I left quietly to get my hat and wrap, before I had to acknowledge the tears I saw forming in his eyes.

We walked slowly down the avenue towards the park. I knew Vicki and her friends would be back around in the carriage soon enough, but I also knew the park well, and headed towards a covered arbor that had a comfortable bench. Often during the horrible days before and after Edward’s death, I came to sit in this quiet, secluded place, to catch my breath and ease my soul.

“This is a lovely spot,” he said, after we had been sitting quietly for some minutes.

I simply nodded. “Sometimes quiet is all there is.”

He laughed softly and I turned slightly to see that wry grin spread across his face. “You didn’t try to drink yourself to sleep every night, like I did?”

I smiled and hazarded a glance at him. “Stewart actually hid the hard liquor for a while. He’d only bring it out if we had male company come over, which wasn’t often after Edward’s death.”

“Oh,” I could hear the smile in Hannibal’s voice even though I was looking off into the trees. “So you did try to drink yourself to sleep?”

“I might have become a bit fond of my after dinner cordial, but then he put that away too, and just let me have a glass of wine with dinner.”

“You must be a much better drunk than I am,” he replied. “The Kid and I had some, well, discussions, that luckily for all concerned did not actually become knock down drag out fights. They were close, but not quite there.”

“I probably could have taken Mrs. Forrest, but unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, not Stewart.” I looked up at him. “So you eventually agreed to come on the book tour?”

He looked off into the trees himself. “The Kid did offer to do whatever it took to get me on the train. I did and even relatively sober.”

“I finally figured out that the hole would not disappear, no matter what I did,” I replied.

He stared at me for a moment.

“Not exactly what you wanted to hear?” I asked softly.

“No.” He was looking into the trees again.

“You have good memories?” I asked and brought his eyes back to me.

“Of course.” Something I couldn’t read slid across his visage before I could interpret it, but then he smiled.

“Then cherish those.” I searched his face, but he turned away again.

“Everyone tells me that.” A bleak look covered his face.

“It’s true,” I replied and reached out for his hand.

He looked down and enfolded my gloved hand in his own. He then met my eyes again. “And what about the bad?” A glisten of tears covered his eyes.

“Learn from them.” I insisted. “Have you not?”

He looked down and closed his eyes. “Not all of them.” A dry laugh came out of the tears. “I told you, I’m not the best of men.”

“And I’m not the best of women.” I caressed his hand and put my other gloved hand on top of his. “Few of us are.” I thought for a moment. “Was Alexandra?”

He was silent.

I smiled. “Even Edward had his flaws.”

He finally looked back up at me, smiling through the tears. “I highly doubt that.”

“He sometimes didn’t understand me any better than I understood him.” I leaned over to give Hannibal Heyes a sweet kiss on his wet cheek. “But we loved each other nonetheless.”

He said nothing for a while, then stood, holding out his hand. “It’s getting late. Time to get you back before your daughter is finished with her ride.”

I looked up and captured his gaze before I rose. There was still a wall Hannibal Heyes would not let me past.


	7. Chapter 7

He did not come to visit me again at the house before they left for Wyoming. At first I was hurt and echoes of Apache Springs drifted through me. Then I realized it was not me he had rejected, but in some way himself.

I saw them at the Rothschild’s ball, and Hannibal was nothing but polite. His shell was firmly back in place, more intractable and brittle than what I experienced all those years ago in Arizona.

I met Bessie in the ladies’ retiring room. She looked lovely in the mauve and gray silk dress, but it did little to conceal her growing pregnancy. She looked less flushed than the first time I met her, but more tired. I did not have to go off wandering in search of a glass of cool water this time. The Rothschilds had, of course, a maid stationed there with cooling lemonade.

She smiled wearily at me as I approached.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” I asked, unsure of my welcome.

“Oh, please do,” she responded and pulled up a smile for me. “I’m very tired of explaining to noisy busybodies why I’m here in my current state.” She closed her eyes and we sat quietly for a few moments. She opened her eyes, as the maid offered us cool glasses, filled with lemons and limes.

“See,” she said, as the maid moved off. “I knew you’d know how to hold your tongue for a few moments.”

“Is there anything else I can get you?” I asked, genuinely wanting to help this tired woman.

She started to shake her head. “Perhaps. Perhaps, maybe Jedediah.” She closed her eyes, before the glistening could overflow. “I thought I could handle all the cold shoulders still, even without Alexandra, but I do miss her so. She had a backbone of steel.”

I reached out for her hands and massaged them for a few minutes. We then sat silently. I glared at a couple busybodies who looked about to approach us, until they went away. Thank goodness I could still pull off my old haughty nature.

I drank the cooling limeade, until she opened her eyes. “You must think us silly.”

“Not at all,” I replied. “I think you have much more courage than I do. I just stayed home for almost two years.”

“Maybe there is a reason for the mourning periods.” She sounded very tired.

“Are you finished with the book tour?” I asked wondering.

She nodded. “New York City was the last stop.” She sighed. “We’ve been doing a circuit of private events, balls and readings. This is the last one.”

“Are you going home?” 

“Yes.” She was relaxing. “And I’ll stop interfering and let Hannibal drink himself to sleep whenever he wants.”

“Is he again?”

“No,” she had to admit. “But I don’t know if that is good or bad.” She looked at me and I saw the concern. “He is so quiet these days, I do worry so.”

“Just let him be,” I advised. “I think it will take a while.” I looked around and the retiring room was quiet. “I think I can go find Jedediah if you’d like.”

She simply nodded. I grasped her hand once more to give it a squeeze, my lilac gray dress rustling as I rose to leave.

I don’t know if it was unfortunate or not, but it was not Jedediah Curry that I found when I returned to the ballroom, but Hannibal Heyes himself.

“Mrs. Fielding,” he nodded coldly at me at me, and was about to pass me by, when I reached out to touch him lightly on his forearm. The movement stopped him dead in his tracks. He looked like he wanted to glare at me, but did in the end restrain himself.

“Yes?” His voice was colder than I ever heard in Apache Springs. I felt so for him, as I remember that angry stage.

“Could you tell me where Jedediah might happen to be?” I refused to return to calling him Mr. Curry again. It was Hannibal Heyes that was being cold to me, not Jed Curry. “Bessie is in the ladies’ retiring room and asked if I could fetch him for her.” I held his gaze until he looked down, a bit embarrassed. “She seemed so tired, I thought I’d best try.”

He simply nodded towards the room where tables were loaded with tempting foods. “He thought he’d get her a plate, that maybe it would make her feel better.”

“It might,” I actually agreed with him and then started off towards the indicated room. He stopped me with a light touch on my bare arm above my long silk gloves.

“I can take you to where I last saw him.” He held out his arm and I gingerly took it. As we proceeded into the dining room, he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I supposed I should apologize.”

I shook my head. “No, Hannibal.” I looked up to see his reaction with my use of his first name. I put my other hand on his arm. “I do understand.”

He sighed. “I’m not certain I do.” He was about to continue on with this thought, when we both saw Kid Curry coming towards us with a plate full of tempting delights.

“Lucy,” Jedediah Curry smiled widely at me. “Nice to see you again.” He glanced briefly at Hannibal, but then back at me, when he didn’t see anything too concerning on his partner’s face.

“And you too, Jedediah,” I replied. I reluctantly disengaged myself from Hannibal and took the plate from his cousin. “I came across Bessie in the retiring room and she asked me to find you.”

An alarmed look crossed his face. “Is she alright?”

“Yes, just tired.” 

He nodded, knowingly and sighed. “You think she wants any of that?” He indicated the plate I now held. 

“I can ask and let you know.” I started back towards where I left Bessie, but he stopped me.

“Thank you, Lucy, for being so kind.” I could see the genuine gratitude in his eyes.

“Anyone would,” I started.

“No, they wouldn’t,” Hannibal interrupted. He took the plate from my hands. “Let’s get you back to Bessie and we can see if we need to leave.”

I nodded and walked back between Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry. I do have to admit we gathered quite a few stares, but the boys just ignored them. There were more important things to worry about than the opinions of some snobby New Yorkers.

As I took the plate back from Hannibal, he said, “Just let us know how she is doing.”

Bessie’s tired eyes lit up at the plate of delicacies I held. “Oh, I shouldn’t be hungry.” She paused and bit her lip. Then a bit of a smile crossed her face. “But that looks so lovely.”

I set down the plate, on the table between our chairs, where it would be handy for her to reach. She perused the plate and chose a morsel.

I took two more glasses of limeade from the ever vigilant maid. After setting one on the table for Bessie, I settled back into the comfortable chair and took a deep drink from my glass. Glancing over towards Bessie, she looked very content with her food and drink, so I closed my eyes for a moment, taking a few deep breaths.

“Well,” Bessie eyed me between bites of delicacies. “Since I know my Jedediah would have no reason to upset you, especially when you were being so kind as to bring me this plate of delicious food, I take it you ran into Hannibal.”

I took one more breath before I opened my eyes. I looked at her and decided honestly was my best course. “I don’t know why I let that man upset me so.”

“I do.” A small smile crossed Bessie’s face. She captured my glaze for a moment, but then was kind to me and changed the subject. Resting back against the chair, she closed her own eyes with a sigh. “My Jed is so good at knowing what I need.”

I smiled back, remembering. “So was Edward.” I sighed, feeling disloyal that I was worrying more about Hannibal Heyes lately, than thinking of Edward. “I know I never deserved him.”

Bessie’s eyes fluttered open and a glorious smile covered her face. “Oh, I never deserved Jedediah, of that I am certain.”

“You know,” I smiled back. “That could be taken more than one way.”

She laughed and it was a relaxed, yet tinkling sound. “I know which way I meant it and it’s been true from the day I met him.”

“Where did you meet?” I asked, honestly curious.

“In Cincinnati,” she replied and laughed delightedly at the reaction on my face. “Jedediah and Hannibal came back East to find Alexandra,” she continued and sighed. “And I believe to give up on their amnesty.”

“Really?” I was curious.

She nodded. “I think it was over four years at that point, that they had been trying.” She took a moment to pick another morsel to eat, chewing it thoughtfully. “I think they were just tired by then.”

“They seemed very capable when I met them in Apache Springs,” I replied.

“Oh, they’ve always been capable,” she agreed. “Maybe sometimes just lazy. Maybe sometimes just tired. The only home they really had after they left Kansas as children, was Devil’s Hole.”

“Have you ever been there?” I asked.

“No,” she shook her head. “Even after most of the men who had been in their gang either left, retired, or died, there were still always a few new ones who found their way back into that stronghold. Jedediah told me it was not a place for a woman to visit, that he could never guarantee my safety, so he wouldn’t take me.”

“Did he or Hannibal ever go back?” I asked further.

She nodded and I could tell she was a bit miffed. “They went back with Alexandra, more than once.”

“Oh?”

She sighed. “I know Jedediah was right, but, well, it did take me a bit to understand why Alex could go.” She finished off another bite and took a deep drink of her limeade. “The first time, I guess it was a rather harrowing episode, with the beginnings of a new gang there. The second time they went, they told me it was empty and almost worse for them in some ways.”

“Have you asked Jedediah again, if you could go someday?” I queried.

“We talked about it,” she sighed. “But then Alex got sick, and well, everything was put on hold.”

“Until you decided to come on the book tour,” I replied.

“Yes,” she looked thoughtful. “They did continue to work on the book, as they wanted some input from Alex and it helped take her mind off of the inevitable. I think it helped take their minds off of it too.” She sighed. “I wondered if it would be another good trip to take, once we were back home for a while, but,” she smiled. “I don’t think I’ll be doing any traveling for a while now.” She gently ran her hand down over her rounded midsection.

“There is still time,” I answered.

She took another glass of lemonade from the maid as she came by again. “I’m wondering if it is something I still need to do.”

I must have looked surprised, so she continued. “Maybe it is not what is important any more.”

I simply nodded.

She eventually finished the plate of food Jedediah picked out for her and I helped her up and out of the chair. 

“Oh, I was so comfortable,” Bessie smiled. “But we don’t want Jedediah coming in to find me, do we? It’s not quite like the hotel where everyone was gone. I don’t think our reputation can stand a run in with the Rothschild staff.”

“No, I expect not,” I agreed. We walked out into the hallway, arm in arm, as if we had been friends for ages. It surprised me, but I suppose not really to find both Hannibal Heyes, as well as Jedediah Curry waiting there for us. Bessie’s husband was leaning against the doorway back into the hall leading to the ballroom. He looked more than ready to take Bessie home, but like he had expected a longish wait. Hannibal Heyes was pacing the hall. His face was pinched, but he tried to smooth it out when we appeared. Jedediah came up to take Bessie’s arm. Hannibal paused, but stayed distant, in more way than one.

I dredged up a lovely society smile, first for the Currys. “Here is your lovely wife, Mr. Curry.” I backed off as additional women wandered by, looking for the sanctuary of the retiring room and wondering why two such distinguished men were standing outside of it.

I then turned towards Hannibal, and purposely held out my gloved hand, as I smiled at him. “Mr. Heyes.”

He really had no choice but to take my hand. “Mrs. Fielding.” He did not look happy, especially when Bessie and Jedediah started down the hallway to the front entrance. A brittle smile came to his face, as he offered me his arm, and we followed the Currys, who here already bidding good-night to the hosts. As we approached the door, I let go of Hannibal’s arm and he moved to the side of the entrance hall with me, to get out of the flow of guests. 

“Good night, Mr. Heyes,” I said and his eyes widened a bit at the formal address. I could see a crack start to break in the wall he had reassembled around himself. He broke our gaze, but did not move away.

I gently touched his forearm, as if I was approaching a skittish wild animal. “I truly was pleased to see you and Jedediah again and delighted to meet Bessie.” I smiled a sad smile up at him and was actually rewarded by a slight but lovely smile from him. It was not his full dimpled grin, but in someways I found it more real.

“Thank you,” he said simply, especially considering who he was. “I hope I am doing as well as you are in another year or two.”

“Remember the good times,” I reiterated. “Forget the bad.” I glanced down, but then boldly back up. “Find something new to excite you.”

A quizzical look covered his face. “Have you?”

A sly smile covered mine. “Perhaps. But I will.”

“I can’t have Lucy Fielding out thinking me, now can I?” he asked, looking wonderingly at my reaction to that statement.

“No, Mr. Hannibal Heyes, you cannot.” A thought occurred to me. “Will you write me and let me know? How you are doing?” The smile came back to my face. “And what you have chosen.”

“Only if you write back and let me know what you have decided,” he insisted.

I held out my hand and we solemnly shook.

“Now I have to let you go, or Bessie or the Kid will get anxious just sitting in the carriage,” he smiled ruefully.

I sighed, “And I must find Nick or Vicki, or we really will have a heated argument this time.”

He smiled and turned to join the gathering line before the Rothschilds, as the evening started to get late for those of us who were no longer young.

I looked after him one last time, then determinedly turned and started looking around for Nick and Vicki. I could not leave without them,


	8. Chapter 8

Vicki was dancing with an old acquaintance, one of the Whitfields, who were related to the Carnegies. I hoped she soon would find the companion of her life, so that I could settle back into a quieter social circle. I smiled to myself. I would not have wanted such a quiet life when I younger.

“Whatever are you smiling at, Mother?” Nicholas and Lily walked up to me from the dining area, as I was watching Vicki. Nick has a suspicious look on his face, still worried about my behavior. 

“Just enjoying watching your sister have such a good time,” I answered as I turned away from the dance floor towards Nick and Lily.

“That is so dear,” Lily smiled back at me. She was actually a sweet girl, much better than my Nicholas probably deserved. I felt like a poor mother, with that thought in my head, but I knew she had patiently waited for him throughout this entire mourning period. 

“I do have to admit I am about ready to call it a night though,” I sighed a bit, knowing my real excitement for the evening was probably over.

“Oh, Mother, I’m certain Vicki still has a few more dances left in her,” Nicholas shook his head, but smiling down at his fiancé, he continued, “and perhaps I need to take Lily out on the dance floor once more too.”

I simply nodded, knowing it was early for the young people and started looking at the chairs filled with older ladies that surrounded the dance floor, for any acquaintance upon whom I might impose to exchange pleasant nonsense until my children were ready to take me home.

It was at this point that I noticed Hannibal Heyes was standing just beyond Nicholas and Lily. His face was not as closed at it had been and his half sardonic grin slid across his face. 

“I’d be honored to escort your mother home,” Hannibal spoke up and gained Nick and Lily’s attention.

“Mr. Heyes,” Nicholas’ voice was of course cold, but Lily smiled and held out her hand to be taken by the older, but still rather handsome man, who was approaching her soon to be mother-in-law,

“Mr. Heyes, you, of course, have met my son, Nicholas, already, but let me introduce his lovely fiancé, Lily. Lily, this is an old friend of the family, Mr. Hannibal Heyes.”

I could see the moment it registered in Lily’s brain, as to who this handsome man actually had to be. She faltered, with her gloved hand still in his, but then bravely continued to smile until he gently released her hand.

“Mr. Heyes,” Nick started off, but before he could get further Hannibal broke in.

“Mr. and Mrs. Curry are probably already in the carriage, but if we hurry, they won’t have to wait.” Hannibal stepped forward with his elbow out, and as I started to take it, Nicholas looked like he wanted to forcibly separate us. 

“Nicholas,” I said quietly so that no one besides we four could hear. “Please do not make a scene.” I met his eyes boldly, as Lily gently pulled him away.

“That sounds like a grand solution.” She smiled at Hannibal and he rewarded her with one of his lovely smiles in return. “Nicholas, I believe you promised me another dance.” She held out her arm, and my son had no choice but to take his lovely fiancé out onto the dance floor, and leave his mother to the tender mercies of one of the most notorious former outlaws in the history of the West.

“Will you have much trouble with your son?” Hannibal asked as we waited to bid our hosts good night.

I just sighed. “No doubt, but thank you so much for coming back for me.” I looked up into his eyes. “I didn’t relish spending another hour or two nattering with all the other old women.”

“As I’ve already told you, Lucy, you are far from old.”

I laughed softly and answered gently. “I doubt if either of us are at an age where we can be unbiased about that statement.”

He returned my laugh as we approached the Rothschilds.

“Well, even if you are leaving early, it sounds like you have had an excellent time,” Mr. Rothschild smiled at us.

“It was a pleasure having you and your cousins attend our gathering,” Mrs. Rothschild replied. “And it is so good to see you and your family out and about Mrs. Fielding.”

I simply smiled as Hannibal Heyes captivated the Rothschilds and then swept us out of the doors and into the waiting carriage.

The Currys said little as Hannibal handed me up. Bessie looked tired, but happy, settled against her husband.

“Mind a bit of a detour?” Heyes smiled at them as he hopped in and settled next to me.

“Your hotel is much closer than my home.” I met his gaze with a wry smile.

“Is it?” He tried not to smile. “New York is just too large for me to remember all these streets.”

“Yeah, Heyes. Right.” The Kid raised an eyebrow at him. “That brain of yours not working as well as it used to? Even I know where the hotel is, and have a good idea of where Lucy lives, since...”

“You’re supposed to get the lay of the land for us.” Heyes interrupted what Curry was going to say, but just looked down at Bessie and then smiled at his partner. “It might be best to get your wife back to the hotel first.”

“I’m not ill, just pregnant.” Bessie commented, not moving or opening her eyes.

“Bessie!” The Kid blushed looking at me and then down at his wife.

“Jedediah, I imagine Lucy knows how babies come about. She had two after all.”

“But for us, this will be, um.” He whispered. “Six.”

“How lovely.” I smiled. “It might have been nice to have more children.”

“They.” Heyes wiggled his brows towards the Currys. “Might needs some extra learning on how babies come about.”

I laughed out loud, but then covered my mouth, trying to stifle myself.

“Heyes!”

“I think they seem to be doing very fine on their own, Hannibal.” I smiled over to the Currys and then up at Heyes with a gleam in my eyes.

“Well, if the coachman has already started moving.” And he had. “We should end up at the hotel first.”

“True.”

“We can go past and drop you off first.” Bessie opened her eyes and smiled back at me. “I don’t want to cause any issues with your children. They can be very judgmental at times.”

“Yes, they can, can’t they?” I shook my head, but then continued, leaning over towards Bessie, placing my hand gently on her arm. “But I think I can handle them. It is you, my dear, that we need to worry about. Let’s get you back to your hotel, so you can get to sleep.”

“But you and Hannibal...” Bessie did not continue, but looked from one of them to the other and then back at the Kid who just shrugged.

“If you ignore the fact that neither Hannibal nor I are, at our ages, marriage material.”

“Speak for yourself.” A wry smile whispered across Heyes’ face and some surprise settled on Bessie and the Kid’s. He had not been in a joking mood for ages.

“Well, then I will.” I just focused on Bessie. “You may not know this, as you were not there so long ago in Apache Springs, but your cousin never did really care for my company.”

Bessie started to reply, but I just shook my head. “But even back in those days, when they were still outlaws, they seemed polite. I can assure you he will make certain I make it safely home, with my virtue, if not my dignity, intact.”

“You know, Lucy, if you sweet talked him a bit more, you might have a better response.” The Kid smiled wryly.

“I highly doubt that.” I laughed softly. “But I do trust him to get me home safely.”

We all felt the carriage slow and pull off to the side. The Kid looked out of the window. “Well, we’re here. I think we’ve been dismissed, Bessie. Might as well get you up to rest.”

“There are few women I’d leave Hannibal with, especially now, but you’ve seemed to survive his wrath before, so I’m certain you’ll do fine now.” Bessie gave Lucy a quick but sincere hug as the hotel doorman opened the carriage door and Curry helped her out.

“Stay out of trouble, you two.” Jed popped his head back in. “Don’t want to have to call Lucy’s son out on Fifth Avenue.”

“We will.” I smiled. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m not promising anything.” Heyes actually smiled. The Kid shook his head, but noticed that Heyes had not moved away from sitting next to Lucy.

The coach sat for a moment after the door closed, probably waiting for a break in the busy traffic.

“Would you like to move to the other side, so you aren’t facing backwards?” He offered, motioning towards the other seat.

“I thought we had become friends at last.” I smiled wryly, but changed seats. I settled just before the coach pulled out. Meeting his gaze, not certain what I saw there, I decided to continue. “I thought we could at least sit next to each other.”

The sadness that was so pervasive in his eyes was temporarily replaced by some determination and a bit of orneriness. He smiled wide at me and also switched seats with the gracefulness and agility that I always admired in him. He settled comfortably next to me, turning slightly so he could see my face.

“What now?” His smile was still on his face, but it had receded from his eyes.

“What do you want now?” I gently covered his gloved hand with my own.

“Peace.” He closed his eyes and rested his head back against the coach seat. His voice became quieter, but not less certain. “More than anything, peace.”

I let that statement settle between us for a few moments, until he reopened his eyes to see my reaction.

“Some may come.” I smiled sweetly, in a perverse way relishing that I was now the unintended teacher, a role reversal from all those years ago. “Eventually.”

“Do you promise?” Scant hope came into his eyes.

“No.” 

His face started to fall, but then I lifted his chin. 

“But in my experience, I think it will, but only after great pain.”

He nodded and we both settled back for the remainder of the ride.


	9. Chapter 9

When we arrived at the curb outside of my home, he hopped out before the coachman was able to descend, turning back to hold out his hand for me. I alighted with his unnecessary but welcome help. He was about to call up to the driver to wait, but I forestalled him with a touch to his arm.

“Come in for a drink. I can have our coachman take you back to the hotel.”

“But isn’t he waiting at the ball still for your children to come back?”

“It will give us some time to talk.”

“Won’t they be scandalized?”

“Probably, but Stewart is definitely still up waiting for us all, and probably Mrs. Forrest or even Mrs. Wilcox, to see if we need another bite to eat.” I smiled up at him. “We will be very well chaperoned.”

He looked like he was going to and really wanted to decline, but in the end settled with the coach driver and sent him away. He then turned towards me, offering his arm.

“We probably should go inside, before we’re the talk of the neighborhood.”

“Probably.” I led him up the stairs to the front door. Stewart opened it as we approached, with a disapproving look on his face.

“Thank you so much for seeing me home, Mr. Heyes.” I let him help me out of my coat and hand it to my astonished butler. “It was so kind when I wasn’t feeling well enough to stay until the children were ready to leave.”

Hannibal Heyes raised an eyebrow at me as he turned his back to Stewart to take off his overcoat, but I knew he’d be very capable of continuing the charade of my small falsehood.

“My pleasure, Mrs. Fielding.” He smiled. “Perhaps a sherry would help settle you?”

“Mrs. Wilcox could bring up some tea and toast, ma’am.” Stewart did not look like he was believing everything he was being told.

“I’d hate to bother her, but perhaps that would be for the best.” I started towards the parlor, but he continued.

“Do you want it up in your rooms, since you are indisposed?” He glared a bit at Hannibal. “I noticed you sent away the carriage, but I could send out James to fetch another.”

“Please don’t bother. Mr. Heyes agreed to sit with me until the children make it home with the coach. I will be fine, if we can just sit in quiet of the parlor.” I shook my head as I continued on into the room. “I’m just getting too old for such large balls.”

“Hardly, Mrs. Fielding.” Heyes smiled as he followed me. 

We were settled in the parlor and even though I felt guilty for rousting Mrs. Wilcox from her warm bed, I was quite enjoying the tea and sandwiches, especially since I was not really feeling ill.

“Are you certain you are fine with the tea?” I looked over to see Hannibal Heyes comfortably ensconced in one of my parlor chairs, sipping out of one of my mother’s bone china tea cups. “I could pour you a tumbler of bourbon.”

“No, actually the tea is fine.” He smiled one of those heart wrenching smiles at me. “My wife was fond of tea. She said it settled her stomach, so we often had it of an evening.”

“I’m sorry if I’m bringing up sad memories for you.” I took a chance and reached over to entwine our hands.

“Actually it is a very happy memory, of old times.” His smile turned sweet. “We’ve shared tea ever since we first met.” His smile increased. “Even before I knew she was a woman.”

“How on earth did you not know she was a woman?”

I let him take his time to spin his tale of how Joshua Smith met Red Johnson and how they eventually fell in love. It was a dear, entertaining story and one he definitely needed to tell. There where points where he was on the verge of tears, but he wasn’t quite ready to indulge in that joy and sorrow. We sat quietly for a few moments, long enough to worry Stewart. He came in to check on us, worried as you would with young children, what trouble they were getting into, when they were too quiet.

“Do you need anything further, Mrs. Fielding?” He stood at the entrance to the parlor, but could see nothing incriminating, with Hannibal sitting across the table from me.

“No, I think not.” I looked over towards Hannibal and he distractedly shook his head. “I was certain the children would be home by now, but it seems not. If you want to get some sleep, I can lock up after they get home.”

“No, ma’am.” He gave a look to Hannibal like he was certain he had not retired from his former profession and would make off with the silver if not watched. “No offense, but I like to close up the house for the night myself. That way I know everything is secure for the night and ready for the morning.” He gave another look that perhaps it wasn’t the silver he was worried about.

“At least make certain Mrs. Wilcox has gone to bed.”

“The young Fieldings usually do like a bite to eat when they get home.”

“Then they should have returned by now.” I knew arguing with Stewart would do no good, but I did try.

“Perhaps it is time to get a carriage for Mr. Heyes.” His nose went back up in the air. 

“Oh, but then you’d have to wake James.” I shook my head. “And what sort of cabs are available this time of night? I couldn’t ask Mr. Heyes to ride in whatever could be found.”

“I’m certain I’ve been in worse.” Hannibal smiled softly.

“There are quite a few around this time of the morning.” Stewart emphasized the last word. “For all those coming home from events.”

“No, that would be just too much bother.” I smiled back at my guest. “We have been having such a delightful talk, I’m certain we’ll be fine until the children arrive. I can’t imagine it will be much longer.”

“Very good, ma’am.” Stewart looked like the last thing he wanted to do was leave me alone again with Hannibal Heyes. “Perhaps more tea?”

“None for me.” He smiled up at my butler with what appeared to be a very innocent look.

“That will be all, Stewart. I’ll ring the bell when the children come back.” I was well aware that he’d be monitoring the street from the windows in the servants’ quarters, but there was little he could reply without becoming curt. He finally bowed and left.

“Do you really want me to stay until your children return?”

I turned towards him, smiling warmly at the look of worry on his face.

“Are you concerned that Nicholas will call you out on the street outside, when he comes home and finds us drinking tea in the parlor?”

“Maybe.”

“Then we should at least have the pleasure of a drink a bit stronger than tea.” I turned to peer out of the doorway to make certain Stewart was really gone, before I went over to the liquor cabinet. “I’m going to have a glass of brandy. What would you like?” I turned back towards him, concerned at the worry and sadness still on his face.

“Whiskey, if you are offering.”

I nodded, pouring a decent but not too large amount for either of us. A bit of relaxation would be good for both of us, but we probably needed to have it finished before the children returned.

He was still distracted by his wandering thoughts as I handed him the crystal tumbler, so I sat back down in my chair and nursed my brandy until he finished his drink.

“What are your plans?”

He looked up at me with a curious look.

“What are you going to do to get your mind off of your dear wife?”

“I don’t know if that is going to be possible.”

“You need to try.”

He then told me the story of how she died. We were both crying by the time he finished.

“So you see, I’m responsible.”

“How?” I was genuinely surprised. “You didn’t fire the gun. Or start the cancer.”

“I should have been able to protect her better. I should have known ...”

“The future? Other men’s thoughts?” I shook my head. “Hannibal Heyes, you are many things, but you are not invincible. None of us are.” As I got up to pour us another drink, I heard Stewart open the front door. The cacophony of the children coming in after a pleasant evening wafted into where we were sitting. I set the empty glasses on the back of the tea tray. Turning towards Hannibal as the children’s voices came closer, I saw him wipe the traces of his tears off of his face with his pristine white handkerchief. He stowed it back in his pocket, as I dashed at my own face. By the time Vicki and Nick were standing in the doorway to the parlor, both of us had our polite society masks back on our faces.

I don’t know if I ever saw such an intense look of surprise as covered first my son’s face and then my daughter’s when they caught sight of Hannibal Heyes standing in my parlor at four o’clock in the morning.


	10. Chapter 10

Vicki’s look turned to a thoughtful one, but Nick’s morphed first into a brief anger that he forced into a very evident look of disappointment.

“Well, I shouldn’t be surprised at this behavior from a former outlaw, but Mother really! And in Father’s house.”

I started to simply be a bit annoyed at my son for his rudeness, but then pure anger flowed through me.

“This is my house!”

“Only because Father put your name on it too.”

“He did because money from both of our families went into it.” I took a deep breath to calm myself. “And because he wanted me to have somewhere to live.” I fixed a gaze on him like he was still ten years old and running in the wilds of Wyoming. “You’ll have it someday, but not quite yet.” I turned towards Vicki. “Both of you, so you’ll have to decide what to do with it.”

Nicholas ignored me and focused on the real threat he sensed in the room, Hannibal Heyes. “And you?”

“I have my own home. Very nice.” He paused but then continued. “My wife and I built it soon after we were married.”

Before Nick could make more accusations, or I could take more offense, Stewart entered.

“Mrs. Wilcox says she has more sandwiches ready if you’d like them to be brought up.”

“Oh, yes, please!” Vicki smiled. “I danced so much after supper that I need a bit of something before I finally make it to bed.” She continued as Stewart started out of the room and he paused. “Oh, and something cool to drink. Lemonade?”

“I think we need more than lemonade.” Nick still glowered.

“I will bring up some tea too.” Stewart walked back into the room and gathered up the tray. He paused and looked up towards me. “Coffee?”

“No, I think it’s just a bit too late for that.”

“Very good, ma’am.”

We were all quiet until we heard his footsteps cross the hall and head down the stairs. Nicholas looked like he wanted to continue his harangue, but I forestalled him.

“Please, everyone, just sit down and let’s all take a breath.”

Both Vicki and Nicholas looked like they could barely contain themselves, probably for different reasons.

“I should probably go, Lucy.” Hannibal started, but Nick interrupted.

“Mother, really!”

“Now what did I do?”

“Allowing another single man to call you by your given name.” He looked like he wanted to continue, but I stopped him.

“Mr. Heyes and I have known each other for more years than you have been born. I think he can call me Lucy.”

“But why is he here?”

“He was waiting for the coach to take him home.”

“Why was he here at all?”

“I figured you didn’t want your mother coming home on her own.”

Stewart and Mrs. Wilcox came in at that point, carrying well laden trays.

“Thank you so much for looking after us so well. You may now all get to bed and sleep in.” I knew some of the servants were up by this time, getting ready for the day.

“If you ring the bell, James will have the coach ready for Mr. Heyes.” I was actually surprised that Stewart would let us be, but he probably would still be supervising.

“Thank you.” At my dismissal he finally left.

“Now, we really do need something stronger than tea or lemonade.” I poured brandy for Vicki and me and whiskey for the men. After I handed out the glasses, we all took a seat, Vicki and Nick perching on the edge of theirs, but for different reasons.

“Mr. Heyes, can you tell me why you are here at four in the morning, talking tête-à-tête with my mother!” Nicholas took another large sip of his whiskey, but hadn’t finished it before he started to talk again. Perhaps the liquor wasn’t the best idea.

“Because he needed to talk to me.” Hannibal took a moment before he answered my son, I’m assuming to make certain he didn’t escalate the situation. I took advantage of that pause.

“I asked him, not you, Mother.” Nick’s tone of voice towards me was not ideal.

“But I had the answer.” 

He glared at me still.

“He was ready to take the hired cab back to his hotel, after he saw me safely home, but I asked him in.” I laughed softly and glanced at Hannibal, before I captured my son’s gaze again. “If you have to yell at someone, I’m the one who behaved inappropriately, not Mr. Heyes.”

“He did by staying.” Nick was not going to let it go.

“Yes, he’s doesn’t seem as smart as he was all those years ago when we were younger and he really didn’t want to talk to me then either.”

“But I did, both then and now.” He returned my smile. “And I think I’m smarter now. Then I thought I knew more than you did. Now I know I don’t.” He turned towards Nicholas. “Your mother has been very good and very patient with me, since we’ve been reacquainted.”

“Yes, I imagine so.” Vicki broke into the conversation. “Mother is nothing if not polite and gracious.”

I returned her sweet smile, surprised that she thought of me at all, beyond as her mother, let alone so sweetly.

“She’s helping me deal with my wife’s death.” Hannibal’s statement silenced everyone in the room, at least for a moment or two.

“I wondered.” Vicki almost seemed like she was talking to herself, but not quite, as she looked over to Hannibal first and then me.

“Honestly?” My son captured my gaze.

“Yes.” I paused and glanced down for a moment before looking up. “I know what I went through losing your father. It’s finally just an aching hole.” I looked over to Hannibal Heyes. As I reached out he gently took my hand. My eyes started to fill. His were just pools of unendurable sadness. “He seemed to be suffering so much, I couldn’t help but want to see if I could ease the edges off of that pain.”

“Oh.” Nicholas didn’t know what else to say.

“She’s given me much more helpful suggestions, than what I tried, drinking myself senseless every night.” Hannibal’s gaze to my son was nothing but honest.

“But you seemed so in control, during the talk you’ve given on the book.”

“I’ve done that for my family, for the Kid and Bessie, so they’d worry less.” He looked down so Nicholas wouldn’t see the tears in his eyes. “It doesn’t mean it has been hurting less.” He intertwined his fingers in our clasped hands. I gave his hand a squeeze before I let go to pick up the tray of food.

“How about we all have one of Mrs. Wilcox’s lovely sandwiches and then get ourselves to bed and sleep?”

Nicholas still didn’t seem very comfortable in the presence of a former outlaw, for all that he went to the book reading. Maybe it was fine to read such a book, but not to be personally acquainted with the author.

Victoria was thrilled. She tried to restrain herself, but I could tell from the minor toe tapping she was doing. There would be so many stories she’d be able to whisper to her friends while they drove in the park. Nick wasn’t happy when she was asking about his outlaw days, but when the subject changed to their quest for amnesty, he actually became interested.

“How many years did the governors string you along?” He seemed somewhat impressed that they tried for so long.

“It was six by the time we actually got the amnesty.” Hannibal finally smiled and shook his head. “And I seriously doubt that we would have gotten it even then, if it hadn’t been for Bessie.”

“Bessie?” Vicki looked fascinated.

“Jedediah’s wife.” I tried to explain.

“Jedediah?” Nick looked confused.

“Bessie and Jedediah Curry.”

“Oh, Kid Curry’s wife?” Nicholas looked surprised, but then glanced over towards our guest.

“I still call him Kid to this day.” Hannibal’s smile became wider.

“How did Mrs. Curry get you your amnesty?” Vicki was still fascinated.

“Her father is Senator Warren from Wyoming.” I patted her hand. “You’ve met him and his lovely wife, Helen, who is a cousin of the Vanderbilts.”

“Warren was the governor in Wyoming who first agreed to let us try for amnesty.” He shook his head. “I don’t know if he was just stringing us along to get us to stop outlawing, but that backfired in the end, when Bessie married the Kid.”

They made him tell the entire tale, but when even Vicki started yawning, I knew it was time for this very long day to end, even if I did not want it to. It meant the end of Hannibal Heyes in my life, other than perhaps a letter or two that he’d feel obliged to send.

“I don’t know about all you young people, but I know I’m exhausted and I’m certain Mr. Heyes is tired from talking all night.” I stood.

“Oh, Mother!” Vicki tried to hide another yawn, but was not successful and just smiled. As she got to her feet, she reached out for Hannibal to take her hand. “I am so pleased to have become better acquainted, Mr. Heyes.”

“And so am I, since you are as beautiful as your mother.” He gave her his heartwarming smile, but let her go as she started out of the room. He turned towards Nicholas and offered his hand, which my son had the grace to accept. “You look so much like your father. He was a great man.”

“Yes, he was.” Nick then turned towards me. “Should I have James bring the carriage out front?”

“Yes, please.” I turned towards Hannibal. “Or else his family will wonder if we’ve absconded with him.”

“I do have to admit, I’m finally ready to leave.” His smile towards me was both generous and wistful. I hoped he did write, for both of our sakes.

**Author's Note:**

> This story started as just another moment in time where the boys again encounter Lucy Fielding. Then bits of another series of my stories started showing up in it. As that storyline ended up differently though, just look this story as the start of its own alternate tale.


End file.
